Lost Without Them (Ashton Irwin Story)

I only passed out, right?

Storms POV

After what feels like forever of listening to the boys joking around with each other, although in reality, it was probably more like 10 minutes at the most, I decide that I am going to get up to get dressed into more appropriate clothing that will not risk showing off my mistakes in life. However, that might be easier said than done.

Ashton is still close by but has moved away a little, only after I told that I was alright more than 20 times, and the other boys are still hanging around at the other end of the sofa – none of them are willing to go too far away in case something happens.

I sit up and move around to sit properly on the seat, placing my feet down as slowly and quietly as possible, so that I am no longer taking up most of the couch. Like I said, it's easier said than done because as soon as I sit up and move I feel like the whole world spins as fast as it can to spite me. I was hoping to be able to get upstairs before anyone notices me moving but I know that there is little to no chance of that happening. I groan, catching the boy's attention, as I lean forward and hold my head in my hands.

"Storm, you shouldn't be sitting up yet. If you wanted something then you should ask one of us to get it or do it for you." Calum scolds, trying to convince me to lay back down from his place with Michael and Luke nodding in agreement.

I ignore him in favour of changing position, crossing my arms in my lap and leaning my head down on them.

"Are you alright?" Michael asks as he kneels to the side of me and rubs my back.

"I'm fine," I say through gritted teeth, hoping he will stop rubbing my back and move away again; hoping they will all leave me alone for a second.

He does move away, thankfully, but I can still feel his gaze directed at me the whole time. I lift my head slowly, trying to ignore the spinning feeling that is still quite prominent. As I move to sit upright again, slower than before, I feel my stomach roll warningly.

"Ashton," My voice shakes slightly as I speak but I continue nonetheless, "Can you help me to the bathroom, please?" I take a few deep breaths while I wait for his reply.

"Yeah, sure," He helps me up slowly and keeps his arm around my waist as he slowly walks with me up the stairs and into the bathroom.

"Are you sure that you're going to be alright?" He asks, probably nervous about leaving me alone after everything that has gone on just this morning alone.

"Oh, I will be in a second," I mumble to myself, hoping that Ashton does not hear my words and I nod in confirmation to the question I was asked.

When I hear the door click shut behind him, I turn to the toilet and kneel down next to it as my stomach flips more violently. It is the final straw for my body as I lean over it and prepare for what's to come. I hate being ill but it's just another one of those things that I have to deal with sometimes.

When my stomach finally settles again, I hear a soft knock on the door. I groan from my spot by the toilet in response to the noise but make no other attempt to even reply.

"Can I come in, Storm? I brought you some new clothes and something for your stomach..." He trails off, unsure how to continue without me replying to him.

God bless Ashton is all I have to say right now; he is a better carer than my brother who probably wouldn't have thought about bringing either of those things.

I move away from the toilet and mumble a feeble 'come in' that he apparently heard – don't ask me because I have no idea how – as he shuffles in and sets what he brought with him onto the counter by the sink. He turns to me, sending me a strained smile before helping me to my feet and sitting my down onto the toilet once he has closed the lid.

"Here you go," He mumbles, handing me two small white pills and a bottle of water which I take without complaint, not in any mood to argue with him. "Do you need help to change or will you be alright on your own?" He looks away awkwardly, not sure about what he should do now.

I think over my options. I could try to change on my own but my head still feels a little weird and, although I've taken medication and it feels better, I still feel slightly queasy and my limbs still feel a bit heavy. But if he helps me, he will end up seeing how messed up I am. I know which option I have to choose since I am in no condition to do the other so I inform him quietly that I may need his help.

There are scars on my stomach but they're old and if I work through this task fast enough then there is a small chance that he won't see them.

He nods in recognition of my answer before splitting the pile of clothes into top and bottom half. While he is doing this I think over how I feel right now. I know I passed out yet I feel like I have a concussion or something. I didn't hit my head so it has to be something else making me feel like this, but what?

"Okay, where do you want to start first, top or bottom?" He asks once he has finished organising the clothes into the two piles. I indicate towards my bottoms and he nods before helping me change quickly into a pair of skinny jeans before keeping a careful eye on me while I pull on a new top – a white skull emblazoned on the front of the dark grey material – and a black hoodie. He kneels to put my socks on for me while I sit on the counter this time.

You would think that this is awkward but you would be surprised how normal this stuff has become in the time that I've known all of the boys; Michael got over his overprotectiveness especially in these kinds of situations. After I am changed, Ashton helps me back down the stairs. I'm certain that he saw my scars but has chosen not to ask, and for that I am thankful. He leads me into the kitchen where the others have migrated in our absence. He sits me down carefully at the dining room table before going over to where the other boys are standing by the counter in the kitchen. They talk amongst themselves for a second as I just lay my head on the table.

"Hey, Stormy, are you feeling any better now?" Michael asks as he drops down onto a seat next to me soon after.

"No," I answer, wincing at how rough my voice sounds even to my own ears.

Calum brings over a single piece of toast on a plate and sets it down in front of me while Luke does the same with a cup of tea – since I hate coffee and the boys are very much aware of this even if I do steal some every now and again just so that I can complain to them about the taste. Once both things are on the table, the other three sit around the table as well.

I look down sceptically at the food and feel my stomach turn a little all over again. I look towards my brother when he begins to speak.

"Can you try to at least eat some of it? It will make you feel better, you know," I give him a look to elaborate on what he has just said and he sighs before doing so. "You feel so bad because there is no food in your stomach so your body is lacking the vitamins and nutrients it needs to repair itself and recover from what happened. You've never noticed it before because you've taught yourself to ignore it." I roll my eyes at his bad explanation but turn my attention back to the food in front of me.

"Please. For me?" He pleads when I make no immediate attempt to pick it up.